


Refrain

by horologiiums



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horologiiums/pseuds/horologiiums
Summary: “I’m sorry for letting you die.”—Byleth’s nightmare gives rise to a confession.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 21
Kudos: 204





	Refrain

Claude wakes in the middle of the night when a strained groan passes through his wife.

He’s always been a light sleeper — there have been far too many attempts on his life for him to allow himself to enter deep slumbers — and it’s not the first time that he awakens in such a way, but the sound of Byleth in pain never fails to pull cruelly on his heartstrings and cause his stomach to flip.

She’s having another nightmare.

They don’t often talk about the contents of her nightmares — “they’re just dreams”, she says — but it doesn’t take much to know that they’re about her late father. Sometimes, in her unconscious state, she’ll call for him. She’ll say different iterations of “I’ll save you”, while tossing and turning and thrashing, reaching for his body that isn’t there. The sights and sounds of it all make Claude feel like getting sick, but he knows that he has to stay strong for her when her own strength fumbles.

Thankfully, Byleth hasn’t reached the point of violently writhing in her spot on their bed yet, but her moaning and whimpering continues on, becoming more and more distressed with every second.

Rolling over to face her back, Claude props himself up on an elbow and lightly jostles her by the shoulder. “My love...” he says softly but close to her ear in the hopes that that will be enough to pull her from sleep.

But Byleth’s whines grow more impatient, her hands on her pillow make tight fists, and Claude worries that her fingernails will break the skin of her palms if she keeps it up.

He shakes her a bit harder, speaks a touch louder. “My love.”

She’s usually awake by now, doesn’t need much encouragement to pull herself from her mind’s haunting. Yet her eyes remain squeezed shut and her jaw clenches, sweat shining on her forehead, cheeks and neck. Claude’s own body begins to heat up uncomfortably as well and anxiety claims his entire torso.

He thinks of shaking her again, pinching her arm, desperate to do _anything_ to force her awake, to save her from herself, but he falls short of ideas when she mumbles, still caught up in her private horrors.

“...on’t... ie… lau…”

It’s fragmented, broken, but Claude is able to decipher her distinct words despite their lost pieces:

_“Don’t die, Claude.”_

A shudder rips down his spine and unpleasant vibrations rattle his bones, mercilessly instilling fear into his soul. It’s excruciating, feels like an arrow has been lodged in his throat and is quickly making its way south, with the intent of puncturing his heart.

In all of the times Byleth has roused Claude from rest, muttering phrases about death and wanting to save someone, he’s never heard her speak his name, not once.

It scares him. Scares him because he’s laying right beside her, has been for years, swore an oath to both her and himself that he would never let her go, even if it means cheating death.

But she’s dreaming about him dying anyway, and it’s more than Claude can take.

He manages to extract himself from his terrified state and squeezes Byleth’s shoulder, giving her one last powerful shove. When he speaks, his voice becomes unsteady and it cracks, incapable of concealing his consternation. “Hey, wake up.”

Her limbs tremble and she doesn’t wake.

“My love... Byleth!”

Immediately following his final shout, the quivering of Byleth’s body settles, and the tension in her face and hands dissipates. She doesn’t move after that for a handful of seconds, and all Claude can feel is the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears.

She’s still, still for far too long, but before Claude is able to truly enter a moment of panic, Byleth’s eyelids flutter.

A single tear rolls over the bridge of her nose when her eyes finally open, hazy and unfocused. She makes no move to wipe the wetness from her lashes, simply lays there on her side, blinking slowly like a cat would after a midday nap.

But this is no midday nap, and seeing her look so detached, so reserved despite her prior frights makes Claude’s blood run cold.

“My love.” he says softly, desperately.

A jolt rips through Byleth at his voice and she takes a sharp breath, fully regaining consciousness. Her eyes are huge, muddled, as if she’s seeing for the first time. She’s motionless again after her initial shock but it doesn’t last long. The stuttering, puppet-like movement of her head turning to look at Claude positioned half above her is agonizing to watch; the backs of his eyes burn and a dreadful lump forms in his throat, daring to erupt from his mouth as a sob.

But he won’t cry, refuses to show weakness when Byleth scrambles under the sheets upon seeing his face, flipping over and throwing herself at him. Her leg hitches itself over his waist and her hands claw at his arms in a rough embrace. He’s forced onto his back but he doesn’t resist, just lets Byleth cling to him, lets her settle her head against his chest as she heaves for air.

When she finally tempers her erratic shifting, Claude holds her and carefully strokes her hair. He makes his best effort to even out his breathing, to calm himself, because he knows that Byleth is listening for his steady heartbeat.

They lay like that for a while, unspeaking. Byleth gasps for air for a long time, digs her nails into Claude’s skin while he consoles her with tender touches and the sound that echoes from his chest that proves he’s alive.

It takes quite a bit of time, but eventually, her breathing begins to slow and her fingers ease up on their pressure. Her leg stays firmly positioned around him, however, and she nuzzles against his chest.

Relieved as he is that she’s soothed, Claude doesn’t want to drift off into sleep before her, doesn’t want to leave her alone to potentially relive her trauma. He lets his eyes close but he stays awake by mentally reciting poison recipes, pictures all of the necessary ingredients he needs laid out for him on a table with each new concoction he lists off.

When he’s halfway through the sixth poison, he hears a quiet mutter.

“Claude?” Byleth’s voice is hoarse, rasping, but he relaxes at the fact that she’s conscious and coherent.

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes open at that and he dips his chin to look at her. All he can see from his angle is a mess of hair, so her expression eludes him. He’s not entirely sure what she’s apologizing for, but considering the state of things, he figures it has to do with her waking him.

“Nothing to worry about, my love.” he reassures her and rubs the small of her back. “It’s not as if I’ve never woken you because of _my_ nightmares.”

It’s meant to be empathetic, but Claude wonders if he went about it the wrong way when Byleth doesn’t answer immediately.

Nevertheless, after a few more seconds of silence, she responds. “That’s not what I meant…”

He blinks and tilts his head in an attempt to gauge her. He’s still unable to get a good look at her face, but when she sniffles and he feels a tear land on his chest, Claude grows worried once again.

“What is it, then?” he presses delicately. He doesn’t want to push her too hard or make her uncomfortable if she’s not ready to discuss what she’s afraid of, but he wants to know. Not just to sate his curiosity, but because he wants to help the one he loves conquer whatever it is that’s plaguing her. They’ve done so much together, as a team. Surely they can tackle this together too.

An answer doesn’t come right away and Claude thinks that maybe one won’t come, not tonight. He feels his eyelids grow heavy and he’s close to unwillingly drifting off, his poison recipe trick failing him, but Byleth’s voice brings him back to reality.

“I’m sorry for letting you die.”

It takes a moment for him to process her words, to really understand them, but when he’s able to make sense of it all, he’s left confused. It’s not a joke, he knows it’s not. Byleth’s sense of humor may be stilted and awkward even after all these years, but death isn’t something that she would joke about, not after everything she’s seen and been through.

Regardless, Claude can’t decide how to reply, so he reflexively and carelessly stumbles into his bad habit of sarcasm. “I _love_ to break this to you, Byleth, but I’m very much alive.”

Insensitive as his words are when coupled with her unease, Byleth is unphased. “You are now… but you haven’t always been.”

She’s talking in what sounds like riddles, as though she has a secret begging to be unearthed. “You’re… gonna need to elaborate.” Claude advises, directing his tone away from his unintended sarcasm and back to genuine concern.

He’s surprised by how quickly she moves off of him, and he misses her warmth the second it’s gone. Byleth relocates and kicks her legs off the edge of the bed, points a finger at the candle on the bedside table and lights it with a tiny burst of fire magic. It doesn’t brighten the room much, but her form is more distinguishable now. Claude sits up and joins her, placing a hand on her thigh.

“Do you remember when I received Sothi— the goddess’s blessing?” Byleth’s question takes Claude by surprise. It seems to be completely unrelated to their conversation about his alleged deaths but all he allows himself to do in response is nod in her direction, urging her to continue. He watches in silence as her eyes flick back and forth between his hand on her leg and the empty space before them, as if she’s trying to avoid looking at something that he can’t see. “Before then, shortly after I became your professor, there was another power that she gifted me. Something… something that could let me _change_ things.”

Byleth tenses when she finishes, as if she's bracing herself to be struck. Claude tenderly moves his thumb back and forth along her thigh as assurance that no such harm will befall her.

But her confession sets him on edge, causes his mind to rewind back in time to the Great Tree Moon of the year that they met. She had received some sort of portion of the goddess’s powers even before the incident in the Sealed Forest? What kind of powers? How did they work?

Claude has concerns and Byleth still has secrets that she’s keeping hidden from him, but he’ll worry about pestering her about all of them another day. Instead, he parrots the end of her confession as a question. “Change things how?”

Her answer is instantaneous, proving that she had been expecting it, for better or for worse. “I can turn back the hands of time.”

The room stills— no, the entire _world_ grinds to a halt as if on cue, pausing its natural spin on its axis. Claude stares at Byleth with what he knows even without seeing himself is a dopey expression, while Byleth meekly looks into the darkness of their private quarters, her gaze unreadable.

Truthfully, it doesn’t make much sense. Rewinding time, let alone manipulating it in any way? It’s out of the question, wholly impossible, utterly absurd. But Claude knows better, knows that the vague, non-material forms of gods do exist out there in this giant, expanding world. Hell, he’s married to a sort of goddess-like entity. And besides, when did he ever let himself be held back by something as controlling and reined in as common sense?

It’s a tough tonic to swallow and Claude is well aware that Byleth has plenty of explaining to do, but he has no reason to doubt her. With all of the crazy, unrealistic events and discoveries that unrelentingly continue to pile up on him after all of these years, what’s one more crazy thing to add to the pile?

Claude skips reiterating what she has already said and jumps right into his careful interrogation, reminding himself that she’s still in a post-nightmare mindset. Byleth doesn’t seem to mind when his outpour of queries start to flow; she’s been with him for a long time now and expects his curiosity and desire for knowledge.

Sometimes it takes a fair bit of time before she’s able to come up with what she probably deems is a “decent” reply, but she answers him without fail.

“How far back can you go?”

“Only a few minutes.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“And the goddess just… gave you that power on a whim?”

“She… said it would be troublesome if my students died.”

A wrinkle is beginning to form between Byleth’s brows and Claude ceases his questions for a moment, watches the way his wife’s fingers start fiddling with each other nervously. He thinks about what started this entire conversation and he swallows thickly.

“Can you… prevent deaths from happening?”

A pause. And then: “Yes.”

He knows what it means, knows what she’s just admitted to, understands what she really meant when she previously said that he’s alive _now._ But it’s too much to take in and his chest feels hollow, his heart misplaced. His mind travels in a different direction for the time being. It’s a painful topic for Byleth but Claude’s self-defense reflexes kick in after being dormant for many moons and he can’t help but say it.

“Then, Jeralt—”

But Byleth is quick to give a livid laugh, stopping him mid-sentence. “I tried, but I can’t change fate.”

The term that she chooses to use catches him off guard and Claude can feel his heart return to him.

Fate. It’s something that he often spoke of to Byleth in the past, still does to this day. Hearing Byleth drop his coined word and acknowledge its influence on their lives generates an odd stirring within him but he’s unable to place a name on it.

Regardless, it settles his nerves, if only slightly, and he gives her thigh a squeeze. “In that case, I’m glad.”

She angles her head a touch in his direction, understanding what he’s hinting at. “Claude—”

He doesn’t allow her to finish; now Claude is the one interrupting her. He shifts on his bottom so that he’s facing her better and reaches for her hands with his own, and when they make contact, he can feel her flinch, but he refuses to let her go. “Me being here now means that I wasn’t fated to die.”

Byleth’s unspoken words scare him. The way that she’s pulling in on herself scares him and the fact that she’s just experienced a nightmare reliving the time when he had at some point lost his life _terrifies_ him. But listening to her express her belief in faith, no matter how insignificant it may actually mean to her in the grand scheme of things, evokes hope through Claude’s fright.

He’s here. He’s beside her, holding her hands. He doesn’t blame her for being stricken by whatever it was that had happened to him — being on the receiving end of their exchange leaves Claude partially stuck in a similar state — but he needs her to see the truth that’s been in front of her eyes this entire time.

If Byleth is anything, however, she’s tricky and she’s stubborn, and she continues to try to free her hands from Claude’s grasp. A part of him wonders if their positions right now have something to do with her dream and he considers releasing her, not wanting to dredge up negative emotions if he can avoid it, but her tugs are feeble, so he decides to hang on for just a bit longer.

“You don’t— you didn’t see it…” she tries to explain but she doesn’t sound convinced by her own excuse, and her eyes are back to darting every which way. Her hands are clammy, unnaturally hot and it’s enough to inform Claude that she’s close to slipping into a panicked state. But he won’t let her get that far.

With a cautious but quick motion, Claude pulls one of Byleth’s hands from her lap and presses it firmly against his chest. She weakly struggles against him but he unyieldingly holds her in place. Before long, the tension in her arm slowly loses its spark and her resistance falters entirely. She still refuses to look him in the eyes but her frantic scanning of their surroundings subsides. In turn, she stares at his hand over her own.

A minute passes in silence before Claude speaks. “Feel that?”

He receives a shaky nod in response.

“The first thing you did when you woke up was listen to it.”

His reminder of her actions earns him another nod, coupled with a short “mmm” of affirmation.

“You’re right. I didn’t see it. I don’t even remember it happening… and I can’t make your memories go away, no matter how much I want to.” Claude scoots closer to Byleth, ensuring that his hold on her hand stays strong. He lightly noses her cheek and he feels her calming exhale more than he can hear it. Truthfully, he’s self-conscious that what he’s saying isn’t all that helpful, so he hopes that his affectionate display helps translate a portion of his intentions. “But the fact of the matter is that I’m here now. I’m alive, my love, because you made it so. You saved me.”

A wobbly breath escapes Byleth and it sounds like a mixture of a laugh and a sob. With his face still nuzzling hers, Claude knows that he would have felt wetness on his cheeks if she were truly crying, and he feels relieved when he senses no such sensation.

His words originate directly from his very core and when Claude shares the idea that Byleth rescued him, he isn’t just referring to her rewinding time to avert his death. Countless times, the woman that Claude can now call his wife has saved him.

Before they became lovers— before they even became _friends_ , she had rescued him in so many varying ways. She had saved him from himself, when his soul was on lockdown and sought nothing but personal gain. She had saved him from his loneliness, extended her hand to him and offered him friendship and a place to belong. She had saved him from his internalized personal loathing, cradling him in the arms of her unconditional love and acceptance.

And now, he learns that she’s saved him from what he would consider to be a gruesome, certain death.

Byleth has protected him, over and over, still tirelessly does to this very moment, and Claude’s heart swells with love and pride. He knows that she has difficulty seeing it herself, remains lost in the cycle of this power of hers, but just as Byleth has rescued Claude, risked her own life to do so, he will do anything and everything within his power to do the same for her.

His hands drift apart from hers but only to move behind her back, pulling her in close for an embrace. In the little space between them, Byleth’s palms maintains its position over his heart but her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. Her head drops into his shoulder and another unsteady breath passes her lips.

“I don’t want to fail you again.” Byleth’s whisper is so quiet, so fragile that Claude almost misses it before it breaks and vanishes.

He shakes his head even though she can’t see it and pats her hair. “You’ve never failed me. Not once.” He purposely expands his chest and makes a noise when he breathes in through his mouth. When he exhales, it feels like Byleth is sinking into him. “See?”

Hesitantly, he hears her hum in approval. Her body is beginning to feel heavy and he wonders if she’s starting to drift off again. He’s scared for her that she’ll have another nightmare, knows that she’s still frightened from the one she’s already had. He wonders if keeping her awake would be for the best but she’s no doubt exhausted from everything she just went through.

When Claude lays back down, he carefully pulls Byleth with him and returns to how they were laying before they sat up and had their talk. She isn’t asleep yet but her breathing is slowing and she cuddles against him, ear flat against his chest. It’s not the best form of a lullaby, but if Byleth finds peace in listening to his heartbeat, he will never protest allowing her its melody.

There are still many things about Byleth’s story that he’s fearful about; how did he die? _When_ did he die? How was she able to change his death? He has his own anxieties about her abilities but she’s quickly losing consciousness now and has reached a level of calm that has escaped her all night.

Claude knows that he won’t get his answers about her new revelation right away, but he doesn’t take it personally. Byleth will share with him all that she is capable of when she’s ready to do so.

Finally, Byleth slips back into slumber, and Claude is soon to follow. Soundlessly, they sleep through the remainder of the night without waking, not until dawn breaks.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been in a rut lately where I hate everything that I write. so yeah, I hate this a LOT. but fake it ‘til you make it… I don’t think that phrase works in this situation but whatever.
> 
> Byleth probably has a really rough time whenever she uses Divine Pulse. & wars leave a deep mark on the people involved so I wanted to show that. anyway, that’s it. thanks if you made it this far & despite my reservations about this fic, I hope you were able to enjoy it!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/toast_ryu) where I cry about clod & byleth all day sobss


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